In the Water Over Stones — for Isabel Meadows
by Stephen Meadows Member of the Rumsen Ohlone Tribal Community
Your voice Isabel is a quail’s voice as the sun’s song ticks in the brush
It is the hawk’s voice and the heart’s heat of the rabbit in the parched summer grass
Nearby in the river in the water over stones it is a willow voice it is a crayfish voice in the hollows in the darkening places
At first light it is the wind’s voice the mouth of the river tule voice the voice of a hundred breezes
The sun marks out the red madrone and in the canyons it is a redwood voice a sycamore voice sweet scented
In the spring it is the lupine voice a blue white and purple coverlet voice all over the hills and the meadows
On the river banks as the set fires burn and the steel head run it is the hunter’s voice flinging the gleamers silver on the sand
Though the houses of rich men now cover these hills it is your spirit voice your evening voice your voice of the western waters
The stars hang out over the point of wolves on the edge of the world the sea lions call the otters break open abalone
It is the voice of the land It is the voice of bright shells It is the voice of the valley And the mountains Isabel
It is the voice of the people too
It is the weaver’s voice It is the young girl’s voice The gatherer’s and the singer’s and the farmer’s voice the wives’ and the children’s and the old woman’s voice It is the Indian voice and the whalerman’s voice and the voice of the servant escaping
It is the voice of your face across the years Isabel in my grandfather’s face in my father’s face and in my face as well
It is the voice of the ones on the edges Isabel It is the voice of those ones with no voices
Hawk and rabbit Quail and brush Water and willow and crayfish and stone Wind in the canyons Daylight through limbs The lupine the steelhead The cookfire’s call Beans and tortillas Your memories Isabel talking Talking to us all
© 2011 Stephen Meadows
This and other poetry by Stephen Meadows may be found in the following publications: Releasing the Days, published by Heyday, 2018 and Winter Work, published by Nomadic Press, 2022.
by Stephen Meadows Member of the Rumsen Ohlone Tribal Community
In hot dust at field’s edge a rusted harrow an old John Deere buckets of oil broken glass at fence line the dead grass the thistles of mid-July
Our heels up on a porch rail quiet roses by the barn cigar smoke your hat back you were telling countless stories about the old times the river each spring
© copyright Stephen Meadows
Poetry by Stephen Meadows may be found in the following publications: Releasing the Days, published by Heyday, 2018 and Winter Work, published by Nomadic Press, 2022.
Grandfather — for Roy Meadows
by Stephen Meadows
Member of the Rumsen Ohlone Tribal Community
I recall your face shining
You were fierce that day
behind the old John Deere
on the tongue
of that man killing scraper
Too young to help
I trailed you through the dust
Heard you grunt each time
you threw your body on the iron
Heard the cut sound
the earth made
the hard chuck of stones
and the wheeze of lung muscle
held against the live ground
Forty yers of plowing
near that hog fence
laid a hill you moved
in a day
your work shirt stuck
to your black rubber neck
sweating wine
© copyright Stephen Meadows
Poetry by Stephen Meadows may be found in the following publications: Releasing the Days, published by Heyday, 2018 and Winter Work, published by Nomadic Press, 2022.
Bert’s Wake — for Bert Onésimo
by Stephen Meadows
Member of the Rumsen Ohlone Tribal Community
The close dark grain
of this antique chair
built about the time
you were born
holds for a moment
your face and its lines
entwining like the years
in my grandfather’s field
a transient memory of you
your walk distinctive and measured
along the road
for wine and supper
looking as they all said
like a bear’s in the shade
of live oak
you worked with the best of them
and had times been different
you might not have labored for wages
you might have had children
your signature practiced as a youth
more beautiful than my own
your untutored thoughts all those years
like the breathing of the oaks
the plummet and rustle
of an acorn
in a green quiet place
© copyright Stephen Meadows
Poetry by Stephen Meadows may be found in the following publications: Releasing the Days, published by Heyday, 2018 and Winter Work, published by Nomadic Press, 2022.
Alejandro — for Alejandro Onésimo
by Stephen Meadows
Member of the Rumsen Ohlone Tribal Community
No amenities but cheap wine
and those fits of weeping
the distempered wet look
of some dog and the black
cast stove picked up red hot
with a couple of burlap sacks
thrown smoking on the truck
when they moved you
to the corn crib shack
Son of old Manuel
far down on the ladder
of the children
it was always you and your brother
and the drunks from town
in beaten old cars that limped
through the summer dust
and shimmered in the heat
near the river
When you died on county sheets
of TB and too much wine
no more the soiled blanket
the broken cot crying
to yellow heaven in the heat
the few windows cracked
the lantern too
cracked
and remaining the tin shack
the bad sawhorse leaning
and the white alder
dead in the blackberry vines
like bone
© copyright Stephen Meadows
Poetry by Stephen Meadows may be found in the following publications: Releasing the Days, published by Heyday, 2018 and Winter Work, published by Nomadic Press, 2022.
Blues for Juanito — for Juan Onésimo
Reweaving the World Ohlone — for Linda Yamane
by Stephen Meadows
Member of the Rumsen Ohlone Tribal Community
Enmeshing
with bone awl
with curved tooth
with dreaming
Again living patience
the slow walk
and choosing
The arms
and the fingers
of plants
the bent branches
the willow
the cattail
the root
the crisp grasses
The green limb
the gold stem
the soft flesh
the cleansing
the sheer thought
the taught hand
the earth’s
whirling music
In your palm
in your lap
in your sphere
in your circle
This basket
this dance
upon the ground
© copyright Stephen Meadows
Poetry by Stephen Meadows may be found in the following publications: Releasing the Days, published by Heyday, 2018 and Winter Work, published by Nomadic Press, 2022.
by Stephen Meadows
Member of the Rumsen Ohlone Tribal Community
Our silence sings
we are the ones
born on this crescent
of rock and water
born of this light
friends of this sea
beneath these cool
constellations
The wind
in the pine boughs
sings our song
in stillness
we are listening
here beneath the trees
We are native
we were born
to rest among these stones
the roots and tongues
the quiet turned
among these bones
© copyright Stephen Meadows
Poetry by Stephen Meadows may be found in the following publications: Releasing the Days, published by Heyday, 2018 and Winter Work, published by Nomadic Press, 2022.